


FREEDOM; a dark nightmare

by MariposaMonarca



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29780529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariposaMonarca/pseuds/MariposaMonarca
Summary: Butch is a plebeian who has been nicknamed "the minstrel" for telling the whole town about his experiences from his work as the errand boy of the nobles and bourgeoisie. Buttercup, on the other hand, is the daughter of the marquis, who is also engaged to an unfaithful bourgeois. The two meet and forge a friendship that helps them get to know each other and guide their paths to their great longing: freedom.
Relationships: Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Kudos: 4





	1. OO

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [LIBERTAD; una oscura pesadilla](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/768774) by Mariposa Monarca. 



> This story is based on the second opening of "BANANA FISH". The song is called "Freedom" and is by Blue Encount.
> 
> All treatments and honorifics are used according to those of Spain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been ignoring everyone  
> I've been wandering around  
> I've been deceived everything, at that time

Butch's only longing in his whole life has been for stability. He and his brothers used to have a job from which they lived and made community with the other settlers, but since that job was taken over by the despicable and smelly burgesses, they had to pay them a somewhat large fee to continue to maintain their source of income. The value they put on the tax, supposedly because it is exercising a service to those who lived under the mandate of the Crown and, above all, in the marquisate, was to supply the labor plus the nobiliary permits; but everything was a robbery: if they earned ten gold coins, they had to give two to the Crown, two to the marquisate, three to the bourgeois, they had two left for the maintenance of their fruits and only one for profit. His father put up with it for a long time, but the poor man ended up dying of hunger.

The law of that place was respected but hated by many: "The bourgeois will always want more money and that is why he will take advantage of the poor ignorant, who must respect those who are above them".

Butch and his brothers detested the bourgeois. They blamed them for the death of their father. The three knew, too, that looking for trouble with those people would only end up with them condemned to death or exile, so they preferred to stay silent and look for another way to make money, therefore, Butch was in charge of doing favors for the wealthy, besides gossiping and memorizing every thing they did, every stupid thing they said, thus, and as revenge, he would come to the small and dusty square of their town to tell some story about them. As a result of his mockery of those who pretended to be noble, he was nicknamed "the minstrel''.

“Come and listen to the story I have brought you today! You won't believe it! You'll laugh your heads off!”

He stood in the middle of the square, in that high place where a wall overlooking the market was erected, which was used to paste the information sent from the Marquis' Palace, always with his white shirt with a little dust, his dark pants, his cloth shoes like all villagers of that brand, his dark messy hair, his green eyes that shone like a naughty child and that playful smile that you could catch it just by looking at it.

“I have discovered the Count's mistress! The Duchess has made a call to reduce expenses so as not to devalue the pound! But Her Excellency continues to maintain her exotic food! Did you know that with one of the four dishes she eats a day we could feed all of us for three whole days? I bet you didn't know that”.

People were slowly approaching, especially the children, with whom I was interacting more. Suddenly, the square was filling up. Butch's stories might not be entirely true, that is, he could manipulate the information to make the situation more interesting, although it was not entirely untrue. He had no contact with the count, nor with the duchess, but the burghers did. In short, Butch's story was a word-of-mouth account, first going through the burghers to whom he did the jobs, then to him. Yes, the earl was committing adultery; yes, the duchess was spending many pounds on keeping her fed and asking the rest to pay more taxes, so she could cover them without having to give up any of her fortune. Butch's stories were satires of those who ruled them, so much the better!

He lived with his brothers and each had a trade. While he was the errand boy, Brick worked with the blacksmith making the swords and weapons of the knights and Boomer worked in the tailor shop making the dresses and suits of the nobles and burghers. Their lives were not problematic, however, and especially Butch, lived with a certain suspicion for those who ruled them and ordered things. As I told you, Butch was the one who hated "those people" the most, he detested them the most. Some who saw his show thought that he wanted to be part of that noble world full of comforts, all because of the way he talked about the luxuries they possessed, when in reality, Butch wanted those people to go out sometime and know what it is like to walk every day with dirt on their shoes and drink water that leaks through a cloth "less dirty" than the others.

**.  
.**

One day, when he was returning from the royal knight's house, where he had been helping the squire to clean the armor full of rust, the happiness he brought with him for having heard a story about with whom that man was being unfaithful to his wife, he ran into a huge crowd. What was going on? Why were so many people gathered, but they were on the sidewalks, leaving the road free where, only in the morning or when dusk fell, the carts of food and products that would be available in the market would pass by. He did not remember that, near his humble village, was the Marquis' House, and it was he, with his daughters, who were returning to the mark after having spent much time in foreign lands.

The carriage was huge, he did not remember seeing it before. Tall, white, drawn by six horses, with a roof that didn't quite cover everything, it seemed to be designed so that the common people could see inside and the people in it.

“Welcome, Excellency!” shouted the villagers in chorus.

“It is a pleasure to see you, Excellent Ladies!”

“What a happiness that his Excellency's daughters are already engaged and ready to get married," commented a lady next to Butch, who stood on her tiptoes to get a better view of the people inside the carriage.

“What are you talking about?" said another lady. "Wasn't there only one more to be married?”

“No way," said an older woman with a thick branch that she used as a cane. “Stop talking so much nonsense! One of the Excellencies is the one who is married," Butch passed behind the woman, insisting on seeing the carriage still approaching him. “There are two more to be married: Her Excellency Buttercup and Her Excellency Bubbles”.

Butch clicks his tongue, not as if he was interested in seeing the nobles of the region either. However, he couldn't move easily through the crowd waiting to see the carriage. He didn't understand why it was taking so long to get through. Hadn't the track been cleared for them for something?

" _ How haughty of those with royal blood _ ," he thought, contemptuously.

He looked around, he was getting hungry, he wanted to go home to eat, especially today when it was Boomer's turn to cook. He noticed one of the thick lampposts that guided the way in the night and walked over to it. It wasn't difficult to climb it, since there were the flats that the lamplighter climbed every night. Already positioned in height, he made of his hand a visor that would help him against the sun's rays and saw that the carriage was already very close, to such an extent that he could see the people inside it.

He saw one of the Marquis' daughters, he didn't know what her name was, but he didn't think it mattered much. Just seeing that long dark hair, somewhat fair skin and curious green eyes, Butch's heart beat harder than he himself had ever been aware of. He had been captivated by the girl, no doubt about it.

He was not prepared for her to look directly at him. The maiden's gaze was accompanied by a quizzical grimace. Come on, what did you expect her to think of someone about lamp posts? Was she so eager to see them? Butch took, with one of his hands, the hat on his head and, as a sign of respect before their Excellencies, he waved it from side to side, he was saluting them. He lost his balance a little, but he did not fall, nor did he stop moving his arm.

Buttercup and Bubbles, who had also noticed the boy, were concerned when his foot seemed not to touch the surface, but when they saw that he was fine, that nothing had happened, they were relieved. Buttercup allowed herself to laugh a little and, at the puzzled look of her sister Bubbles, bowed her head a little, as if reciprocating the greeting. After that, they were out of sight. People were beginning to disperse, they were going back to their work or to their homes, it was time to eat, after that they had to continue with their work until the end of the day. But Butch stood on the lamppost falsely waiting for the people to disperse, when, in reality, he was trying to calm the sensations he was experiencing inside him.

Fuck... she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life.


	2. O2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then you appeared in front of me  
> You ignited my pale heart  
> We've been looking for each other from now on  
> Save you

The minstrel took his position in the square, stood gracefully, smiled with enthusiasm and began to call out to his audience, who were anxiously waiting for his stories. Children, mainly, surrounded him and asked him what kind of story he would have for them that afternoon, accompanying them, were the mothers and the odd father guarding and watching over their children; they, particularly, liked Butch doing that, because they knew he had no other intention than to be kind and give a little joy to the people. The minstrel's interventions meant relaxation for them amidst all the stress and dust. By way of thanks, even if he told them, and insisted, that it was not necessary, they would give him vegetables and fruits as a way of showing gratitude. It was rude to refuse a gift that was given with good intentions.

There were days when, after running from one side to the other in search of the extravagant products consumed by the count, who was the one who most required his services, the only thing Butch wanted was to rest, but then he would look into the children's excited eyes and agree to tell them a story, even if it was brief, they would thank him, especially because, by varying the hours of their day, he could leave them in suspense until the next day; he would use that time to think about how to continue the story.

“How about a brief introduction to tomorrow's story?” he asked loudly.

“You could tell it all now!” shouted a boy.

“Oh, boy, you have no idea what you're talking about!” he laughed a little. “Tomorrow I can witness the whole story, if I tell you what I've only seen today, I'll have to lie to you, and you know I don't like to do that”.

“What story will you tell us tomorrow?” asked the girl next to the boy who spoke first.

“I want you all to imagine the count's face when he realized he had lost his precious gold beans”.

He puffed out his cheeks, spread his arms a little apart from his body and bent his knees, the children began to laugh lightly, then he raised his arms to, imitating a thick voice, spoke as if he were the real count.

“Who has dared to steal my precious beans?!”

**.  
.**

Buttercup's life, in her own words, was horrible. She disliked being part of the nobility. She always reflected on her life when she went up to the roof of the palace where she lived, where her guard used to stand watch at night to ward off thieves and invaders. She approached one of the wide, black lampposts and looked out over the entire landmark. From there she could see the bourgeois sector, one that was growing in size every day; it could be seen that, too, the hill lands were being inhabited by those who had made their wealth grow. Further in the distance, and seeming a distant point, one could see the rural sector, the village, that place where there are taverns for those who live there, a market and the small buildings that corresponded to their dwellings. Buttercup and her sisters always wondered how people could live in such small places. Although they never followed the conversation when it came to that subject, Buttercup thought that perhaps the townspeople wondered why it was that they, the nobles, had to live in such large places.

Her home, the palace, was not as big as the duke's, it was smaller, and, obviously, smaller than the monarchs' castle. According to the size of the palace was, in proportion, how much influence and power each noble family holds. At least, and despite being in the same region, the marquis had more power than the count; the latter could not make any move without first discussing it with him. All those rules gave her a headache, she did not understand very well why the small world where they lived should move like that. Even if it seemed that they enjoyed freedom for having wealth, being able to travel without fear of losing their home or their job, socially, they had no freedom at all, not even to think. Her eyes had not strayed far from the town, she remembered when they were returning and the people greeted them with euphoria. She saw couples, young people, some of them married and already adults, others, old people. They were holding their partners' arms, they were shaking hands or resting their heads with theirs. " _ How lovely it would be, _ " Buttercup thought at the time, " _ to marry for love _ ".

“I wish I had the freedom they have," she muttered and then clenched her fists and leaned against the marble rooftop. “I wish I wasn't here," she mumbled.

One of the many things Buttercup hated, and, well, had become her perfect target of hatred, was her future spouse. She detested him, disliked him so much. He was handsome, damned handsome, his hair was a bit long, they called him the "rebellious sir", brown in color but gave the impression of being somewhat reddish when exposed to direct sunlight or standing next to a lamppost. He had blue eyes, they were bright, very bright. She wasn't going to lie, when she first saw him, Buttercup was dumbfounded, she just thought he was so handsome, compared to her sister's husband or her other sister's fiancé, she said to herself  _ "wow, I've had the best of luck, my children will turn out beautifu _ l". Then, she learned what kind of person that man is: a sucker.

She could not pronounce the man's name, it annoyed her to no end, as long as they were engaged she should call him "sir something", however, she preferred to call him "Don", because he was not important enough to be referred to as sir. She didn't like class issues, however, she let her bad feelings get the better of her. She called him Don because he was not so important, he was a simple bourgeois, an ordinary bourgeois, he was not born rich, he became rich at the expense of practices regarding the management of capital. He lacked the class, the one he had lost since he felt he was better than those who had not managed to get ahead with their businesses.

As if all of the above was not enough, the cherry on top of such a magnificent cake was that he was a first class cheater. A day after the proposal, after they had to pose for three hours to have a painting that would immortalize the moment for their future generations, for three days, he received at least seven different women but all with the same story: "The sir has sworn me eternal love. Your Excellency, you cannot marry a man who loves me."

Buttercup's shame has been to have to put on the best of her expressions while casting doubt on all the testimonies of those women. She did not believe the first one; she doubted the second one a little, but decided not to believe it; the third one did not sit well with her; when there were seven, she realized that something was wrong and that the absolute fault was not of those ignorant women, but of the one who thought he was better than them to have deceived them in that way. That ended up sealing all the hatred Buttercup felt for her future husband. It would be a horrible marriage, there was no doubt about it.

“Excellency, tea is served,” the voice of the man who was in charge of her care did not startle her, she already knew he was approaching, she recognized the sound of the soles of his shoes.

“Thank you, I'll be right down”.

" _ Please _ ," she thought as she looked at the town for about two more seconds, " _ someone, anyone, save me from this prison _ ”.

**.  
.**

There are times when you get certain urges, and for Buttercup leaving home was one she couldn't resist. The unfaithful fiancé she was engaged to had gone to bed with some servant girl, overheard them in the night when she had gone to the bathroom. Would you believe she had the nerve to greet her adored bride-to-be with a kiss on the cheek? Audacity knows no imaginative bounds. From that, Buttercup said she wanted to go out. Her father would be receiving the Earl of the Mark and two others who were coming from elsewhere, plus those accompanying them at administrative meetings. On the other hand, her sisters did not offer to keep her company, as they were excited to check on the pending weddings that were coming up.

“I'm going out to clear my head," she said after a tense breakfast.

“Go carefully," she was told, nothing more.

She told those who would be driving the carriage to just drop her off at the entrance to town. None seemed comfortable with the idea. They questioned her with the classic: " _ Your Excellency, are you sure? It's a dangerous place for a lady like you. _ " Her most loyal vassal offered to accompany her, but she was adamant about what she wanted.

“Stay here. I remind you that I give the orders," she was annoyed with all the overprotectiveness. “I order you to stay in this place," she got out of the carriage without so much difficulty, and she was not wearing a silly dress that day, even her dress felt lighter. Of course, she did not lose her grace and elegance, however, even if she wore a dress with gold and silver thread details, she could go unnoticed, at least in the first instance, among the population, because there were more girls who wore colorful dresses and none of them wore those annoying petticoat. “You can go after me,” she looked at her vassal, “but at a wide distance, please. I don't want to attract attention”.

Everyone seemed calmer now. As long as they did not leave her alone, even if it was only one, she would be sheltered. She was the Marquis's daughter, if anything happened to her, their heads would roll in the night.

Buttercup began her journey. Her steps were a little clumsy, she was not wearing the ideal shoes for the ground. After a few meters, she managed to get used to it a little. She reached the village, she was finally in town. She took a big breath of air and felt smells that she could never have imagined existed. It was food, the smell of food, but it didn't resemble, at all, the smell of food at home. The ground beneath her shoes felt different than when she walked around her property, it was harder and kicked up a lot of dust. She moved among the people, some did look at her strangely, they had come to recognize her but did not say a word about it so as not to disrespect the daughter of the marquis. If the young woman was strolling in those places, they should not speak about it.

Enraptured by the crowds, by the conversations with a dialect different from the one she used to use with her family and people of her society, she wants to join the group of people who were in the center of the town, in that square in front of the wall. She bows her head a little out of curiosity, but it doesn't last long in that position. She keeps a distance from the people so as not to seem so invasive and so that, if someone were to stand next to her, they wouldn't look at her too much. She hears a boy's voice, looks at the wall again and distinguishes a young man: about her age, a black beret, dark messy hair, white shirt and knee-length brown pants. She recognized him, couldn't help but open her mouth once she realized that it was "the reckless young man who was hanging from one of the lampposts."

“Ah! I've already told you so much about Princess, the most beautiful girl in the kingdom!” Buttercup frowned a little. "Do you know what the Duke's daughter thinks? She told me that all the beauty she possesses is a mask! That she is not pleasant! And on top of that," Butch leaned towards the audience, "she's too capricious!”

Hearing all that didn't sit well with Buttercup. She knew Princess, and while they didn't get along well, they had a good and comfortable relationship of nobility, after all, Princess was first in line to the throne, she couldn't be on bad terms with the one who was supposed to be the next ruler of the nation.

“But, well, it's not like we can make any demands on them," Butch sighed. “And the real problem here is that these noble people don't know how to do anything on their own," he laughed a little. “I've told you what they call me, haven't I?  _ Vassal _ . Well, these people call me and always say to me," he spread his legs a little, bent his knees, put one of his hands on his waist, the other around his mouth, and in a deep voice spoke, "Vassal! I left my monocle in the carriage! Go and get it!" he returned to his normal position. “The old man had just taken two steps away from the carriage, what did it cost him to go back? Were the pockets full of coins too heavy? Besides, I ask you, would you forget your monocles? I mean, you're supposed to use them to see better, or am I wrong?”

“No," they answered in chorus.

"Well, I say the same thing, but the  _ great lord _ , as comfortable as ever," he said with a satirical tone, "he couldn't walk the two steps, he had to treat me as a vassal and demand that I pass him, in the fat hand he has, the monocle”.

" _ Who is this boy? _ " wondered Buttercup.

She glanced around slyly, just moving her eyes, she noticed that people were also watching her and murmuring among themselves. She turned her head slightly towards an adult couple, they looked embarrassed to be in that place, in fact, they were hiding their faces with their hands. Buttercup understood that people had recognized him.

At the commotion that was forming among his onlookers, Butch tried to look closely at what was causing them to react that way, when he noticed Buttercup standing there, staring at him, arms folded. The elegance of the young woman could not go unnoticed, he found it strange that she was walking alone, then he looked a little further in the distance, there was another well dressed man, surely he was one of those who serve the House of the Marquis.

Butch also noticed her presence. Just as if he was remembering the first time he saw her, his eyes stopped on her and his heart skipped a beat. It was just that, to him, she was the most beautiful girl he could ever see. And now, she was looking at him, all her attention was on him. He cleared his throat and resumed the story of the count's requests.

“And he asked me to bring him tea! At that moment I asked myself: Why is he asking me if he has people working to cater to his whims? Well, I knew right away. He just wanted to humiliate me. What he has no idea is that every time he treats me badly, I will embarrass him in front of all of you who have come to listen to me. Thank you very much!”

The children are the first to applaud him, Butch bowed in imitation of the real minstrels who had visited the village before. He knew that the bells of the village church would start ringing in a few seconds; they did. Those bells gave notice of the hour, it was already noon and Butch was to go to the Earl's House.

“I promise to bring you a new story in the afternoon! At six o'clock you will find me here!”

The children thanked him, the parents thanked him, Butch called it a day. Buttercup thought she should leave, she had seen enough of the town for today, until she noticed Butch pointing his index finger at her. The boy adjusted his beret, stopped pointing at her and walked over to her, who didn't move for a second. Unmoving, a little frightened by the gesture, she waited until Butch stood in front of her. He was taller than she had thought, he beat her by a head.

“And tell me, did you like it?” Butch asked with a playful smile.

" _ How dare he call me you _ ," thought Buttercup.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked him in a somewhat harsh tone.

“How much of the story did you hear?” He continued, "Did you like it?”

“I don't think that's the way you should address me”.

“Ah, isn't it?”

“Definitely not”.

“Okay, but you understood me”.

She kept silent, averted her eyes and half-opened her mouth. I hadn't thought about it.

“Yes," she finally answered, "but that's not the point”.

“What is the point? Do you want me to treat you like nobility and make you feel different from us?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That you're in our territory. It would be better if you tried to move and talk like one of us and not make a ridiculous difference with your treatment,” he smiled at her again and shrugged his shoulders. “Well I'm off to work, I'll be back at six o'clock at this very spot if you want to hear any stories about the knights who protect Princess' castle,” and he ran off.

“But how disrespectful!” she was indignant before turning around and leaving the place.

**.  
.**

Once she was back home, she deeply regretted not being there to see her fiancé off. Irony. Her sisters told her, in a nostalgic tone, that sir what's-his-name had to travel to I-don't-know-where because he was called by I-don't-know-who to attend to I-don't-know-what. She feigned concern, but the truth was that she didn't care in the least. She even thought it would be good for him to go far away, so far away that he would lose his way back. Sadly, she knew that wouldn't happen.

After lunch, her father asked her if she had found a place to calm her spirits.

“Yes, father, I found it in the vicinity of the village”.

“Did you go there?” He narrowed his eyes with a certain distrust, his gray eyebrows gave a certain stern touch to his expression.

“Just to the entrance," she sighed, "I thought it was a very lively place, but then I wanted to see nature. It was a ride on wheels”.

“Did it really help you?”

“Sure, why do you ask?”

“Because you're still tense," he stood up from the chair he was sitting on as a throne in the living room, "is it because your fiancé has left?”

“Maybe," she lied.

“I guess being cooped up in this place doesn't help you much”.

“Maybe I'll go for another walk. I have nothing to do this afternoon," the man arched an eyebrow. “I was also thinking of finding somewhere to use as the perfect setting for my prenuptial painting with my future -  _ and disgusting _ \- husband”.

“If it's good for you, do it. I'll just have to ask you to be back by dinnertime”.

Buttercup smiled at her father and then withdrew from the drawing room. When the Marquis was in a good mood, it was not difficult for her, or her sisters, to get their way. It seemed that the capital movement business with the count had worked out wonderfully, which was why he was so permissive. Now, she smiled a lot more when she was in her large room. If she went at the appointed time she could see the spectacle that attempted minstrel would put on, that way, and now feeling a greater power in reasserting her authority, she would tell him what she really thought: that he was a very resentful and burlesque person who had not the slightest sense of respect for those at the head of society.

" _ Do you want me to treat you like nobility and make you feel different from us? _ ", she remembered the words of that young man when she was already arriving at the village.

In complete silence, and with the distant company of her vassal, she arrived at the point where she supposed she would see the minstrel again. She cursed herself for having returned, however, it was all a matter of pride and ego proper to nobility. Butch's show was about to begin. He saw her, raised an arm and waved it before shouting:

“Good thing you came!” People looked at her, but she covered her face with both hands and turned her torso to avoid those stares. “Well, how are you today? As for me, I'll tell you: today I had to work with one of the Count's knights. Where could I start? Ah," he folded his arms, frowned and shook his head, "I bet you can't guess what the knights look like”.

“Strong?” said one of the girls in the front row.

“Besides that," Butch leaned toward the children, "it seems they are just looks. This knight in question," he stood up, "didn't know how to take care of his armor! He spent more time being a bum than working as a knight.... Or taking care of himself to be one. I've had to clean his helmet," he made a disgusted face, "and what filth they are! You have no idea how awful it smelled. How disgusting it makes me remember it!” he made a small retch.

People began to laugh, the children clapped their hands whenever Butch made a grimace or a pout. Buttercup watched, from a distance, the wonderful chemistry Butch had with the audience, he seemed to be very well liked by them. Even though she didn't think much of his way of referring to the gentlemen's figures, she was enjoying listening to it all, even if she was only at the beginning of the story. It was catching, Butch had that, apparently. Once was enough. You'd lay your eyes on him and you couldn't take your eyes off him.

“What good are they to us?” Butch raised his voice a little higher, showing his anger, "Is there going to be another crusade? Well, no! They're only there because they think they're the coolest people in the shire! As if that weren't enough," he sighed indignantly, "they think they're giving us hope that we can emerge, when, in reality, we can only sin of pride. And sin is not good! In any of its forms! That's what the soldiers repeat, and they sin in laziness” the adult people are the ones laughing this time, the children join in the laughter by mere repetition. “Don't be like that, boys and girls!”

Buttercup realizes that he, it seems, thinks like she does. He seemed to her to describe her future husband perfectly. Once the story ends, the air became icier and the lamplighter was already strolling out to begin lighting and illuminating the streets. People cheered for Butch, as usual, and ladies came up to him to leave him some bread or other, some gave him vegetables, and the usual apples he was so fond of eating. Slowly, the crowd dispersed, Butch sat down where he had been monologuing and took a deep breath that allowed him to relax. He brought a hand up to the back of his neck and began to rub it. Buttercup, meanwhile, had taken short steps toward him.

Butch stands up immediately, that startled the girl a little. She looked at him and yes, he was definitely taller and more intimidating in the dim light that the dusk was leaving before twilight.

“If you want, I'll bow," he told her, she frowned and shook her head.

“It's not necessary”.

“How was it?”

“Interesting”.

“Will you come another day?”

“I don't have that much free time”.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm not allowed, actually”.

“Okay, what's your excuse for coming out now?”

“I'm looking for a place... What's it to you! I don't know you”.

“I know your name”.

“Of course you do," she said with a tone of obviousness while squinting her eyes.

“It suits you very well”.

“Thank you”.

“ _ Buttercup _ is definitely a very pretty name, it goes very well with your face”.

“Wow," she sighed, "I appreciate that," Butch laughed, Buttercup decided to burn his face into her memory.

Butch, in Buttercup's eyes and possibly the rest of the girls, wasn't half as handsome as her fiancé, but he had a certain charm, you wanted to look at him all the time, appreciate every detail of his features and expressions; as if that wasn't enough, you also wanted to record his tone of voice and his peculiar, somewhat vulgar pronunciation compared to the people who rubbed up against her.

“You can always find me here”.

“Okay, but I don't think I'll be back”.

“I can come to you”.

“Why do you think I want to see you again?”

“Because your gaze," she was startled when Butch closed the distance with his index finger, though he didn't touch her, he pointed to her face, "shone.... This is new to you, isn't it?”

“A little," she admitted.

“Are you sure you don't want to go back?”

“It's none of your business”.

“If you change your mind, I can be your guide”.

“I can ask someone from the palace”.

“It'll be hard for them to know the village like me, anyway, they live with you, don't they?”

Silence, he's right.

“Come back whenever you want, I'll give you a ride, I'm free on weekends”.

“Okay," she takes a couple of steps back. “Goodbye, plebeian”.

“By the way!” shouted Butch at her when she had turned around. “You can call me Butch!”

Buttercup turns around, Butch was waving goodbye to her as he gave her a big smile; after that he gave her a bow and smiled at her again, but this time it had a certain touch of mischief, as if he was teasing her though without malice or double mocking intentions.

" _ Wow, what a nice smile _ ," Buttercup thought.

She shook her head and stopped looking at him to walk to where her carriage awaited. Behind her followed her faithful vassal, who would see to it that she was escorted safe and sound. She knew, too, that he would say nothing to her father if she ordered him to. The dark-haired, brown-eyed man was taller than Butch, also had broader shoulders. If anyone tried to do anything to him, just the sight of his vassal would send him running. He was kind of scary, even if he was a considerably sweet person and concerned about the welfare of his family.

“Thank you for coming for me," Buttercup said to the man.

“Don't thank me, it's my job”.

“Do you know that boy?”

“No, your Excellency”.

“Can I ask you for anything?”

“Anything you wish”.

“Will you help me think of an excuse to come to town on weekends?”


	3. O2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 息をするたび肺にたまった  
> 行き場のない苛立ち  
> いとも容易く踏みにじられる  
> 憧憬の火は燃え続けてる  
> 毅然とした本性で
> 
> まだまだ足掻くんだ
> 
> "The frustration that builds up in my lungs  
> has nowhere to go every time I breathe.  
> Yet it's as easy to just stomp it out  
> as the fire of my longing that burns,  
> fueled by the boldness of my true self.
> 
> I will do my best

Butch was very anxious. During his stories, as he interacted with people, he was looking for someone specific, someone who never showed up. After his journeys, he would go more attentively through the streets to see if he would meet her by chance. But what chance was he talking about? The girl didn't belong to the town so that she would be out there, wandering the dusty streets carrying a basket of apples. She belonged in another world; not by any chance could she appear there.

" _ God _ " thought Butch every time he remembered her face, is that the girl was prettier in person, and, looking straight into her face, he understood that such beauty and grace could belong to no one but her. " _ What was such a fine girl doing in these filth-filled places? _ "

"Hey, you minstrel asshole," Brick called out to him, to which he looked somewhat offended, "grab the sack with the potatoes, hurry up, we have to go home before it gets any later”.

He had gone shopping after work and arrived in time for his six o'clock show. His brothers, as always, were waiting for him to finish, only now they not only had to carry their work clothes, but also the food they bought for the next few weeks. On the way home, as dusk was falling, they took the wagon route, it was easier for them to get to the side of the mountain, where they had their home, and there, to top it off, they had plenty of light. Boomer narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, Butch looked at him quizzically and asked:

“What's the matter with you?”

“Do you see what I see?” Boomer asked. “Over there, is it a wagon? A carriage? It looks broken, I don't know. Tell me if you are seeing the same thing”.

It was indeed a carriage. Apparently, and from what Butch and Brick saw, it was having trouble with one of the wheels, it was leaning and there were three people, but only one was standing up and away from the carriage, while the other two were crouched down.

“You are useless!” shouted the standing man. "Didn't you check if the wheels were in good condition! Now I must be late, and all thanks to your ineptitude!”

The sir was shouting at his servants, the three brothers saw with some indignation the way he was being treated, but then they remembered that these people felt they had the right to pass over anyone who was not of their own stratum; for the nobles and bourgeois, you were nothing but trash and so they had to treat you like one so that you would not forget it.

“Do you need help?” Brick asked with a somewhat aggressive tone.

The sir looked the boys over from head to toe; in Butch's words, the man was quite handsome, there was no way to detract from his masculine appeal. But all the charm that came through his eyes vanished when he heard him say a word. Then his rotten personality was exposed.

“Surely you want to be paid, don't you?” the Sir answers them, having just looked at them. “Like any poor man who pretends to be a Good Samaritan," he sneers, "you won't do anything without a reward”.

“What are you talking about?” Boomer asked, and the sir's eyes widened at the taunt.

“Do you want help or not?” Butch was more aggressive in his tone, "Because we can walk away and leave you here, at your mercy. No one comes to this place besides people like us: poor people who pretend to be good Samaritans. So you can either wait for others to pass or accept our help. That you are stranded does not matter to us at all”.

As soon as the sir accepted, the three brothers left their packs on the side and approached the carriage, grimacing with displeasure. The sir's servants moved away, thus giving them more room to move and examine. They only had to tighten the wheel, Butch and Boomer held the carriage, Brick had some experience fixing carriages, so he seemed to know better. Butch looked askance at the sir who looked at them with disgust, he wanted very much to tell his brothers to leave everything there and go, but then he looked at the servants, both crestfallen, surely they were also tired and wished to reach their destination so they could sleep and get rid, if only for a few hours, of the unpleasant subject they served.

“You have to get an expert to look at it," said Brick, "because it's going to go bad again. I put the screws to him a little tight, maybe he'll take you for a couple of miles? Where are they going?” he asked one of the vassals.

“To the House of the Marquis," said one of them, Butch was amazed and that made Boomer, who was standing next to him, a little surprised.

“Why are you talking to them? I am the Sir here!” exclaimed the unpleasant man, "Come on, let's go. I want to get there quickly," without another word, he made his way up and took his seat while his two servants took front positions in the drive.

“You will arrive safely, but I recommend you never use this carriage again unless you call in an expert," Brick reiterated, without looking at the Sir, and they walked away from the carriage.

“What's with the casual treatment?” spat the Sir as the boys were already turning to leave; Butch heard him so he turned to him along with a mocking smile.

“May you arrive safely at your destination,  _ Sir _ ," Butch chuckled.

The three brothers left while the sir looked at them with suspicion and a certain disgust, that which refused to leave his face every time he saw someone who did not belong to his class. Then he insulted his vassals for not being brave enough to threaten them with death or, failing that, they would fix the carriage; those men only nodded and apologized. As he turned his gaze back to the three brothers, he noticed one of them turn to look at him, but only for a second. The dark-haired one.

" _ What's that poor fellow up to? _ " he thought and his carriage started to move forward.

**.  
.**

Buttercup was having tea on the terrace with her sisters. Blossom was talking about how happy she was married while her younger sister, Bubbles, listened with great enthusiasm. The older sister's stories made one believe that she really was having the time of her life. Blossom spent much of her life reading romance novels, so when she was told she was getting married she imagined it as one of the stories she read so eagerly.

“Was getting married really your biggest dream?” asked Buttercup.

“There's nothing I could wish for..... I have it all, literally everything, land, money, beauty…” she sighed and picked up her porcelain cup, “I have it all”.

“You sound like you're trying to convince yourself of that," Buttercup joked to which her sisters laughed lightly.

“What do you say," said Bubbles, "I think Blossom is absolutely right," she fixed her blonde hair a little. “Aren't you happy about your future marriage?”

“Honestly, I hadn't thought about it and I'm just getting the hang of being engaged now," she smiled at the girls, who looked at her a bit puzzled.

“Well," said Blossom, smiling broadly, as she did whenever she sought to change the subject or validate her point of view, "compared to the reality of the villagers, we're lucky. God's favorites!” she waved her palms enthusiastically to which Bubbles smiled and nodded.

“Yes…” said Buttercup to the surprise and delight of her two sisters, “blessed by God…”

" _ But God also created minstrels who make fun of us, _ " thought the girl after speaking.

**.  
.**

Butch and his brothers were returning from work, tired but more energetic than other days. However, Butch's energy increased once he saw a young man walking in the distance wearing a white shirt and a leather breastplate. From his height and thinness he knew who it was.

“Tommy!” he shouted and the young man realized.

Tommy was not from the region. The day his family arrived in town was a topic for everyone. Where did these people come from? They were not from the region, their skin tone, their thin bodies and their small, elongated eyes showed that they were not from there. But that curiosity was short-lived, as the Moon family was focused on working and earning money to survive just like all the villagers.

“What are you doing here, man?” Butch asked him after having hugged him.

“They gave me a free moment, I thought I'd see my family," Tommy said and went on to greet Brick and Boomer, who were also happy to see him.

“How cool. How have you been?” Brick asked.

“Well, everything is going great," he sighed a little exhausted. “Until the knight accepted the sir's offer: to be his right-hand man," he rolled his eyes. “I'm fed up with him, he doesn't fight anymore, he doesn't do anything, but I must remain his squire”.

“Knights are stinkers," said Butch, to which Tommy nodded immediately.

“Yes, absolutely”.

They started walking, Boomer was a little ahead, Brick wanted to hear what Tommy was saying, while Tommy and Butch got into those extended conversations that they could only enjoy when they were free, when they coincided. This was one of those occasions and they wanted to make the most of it.

“Tell me, how is life in the palace?” asked an enthusiastic Butch.

“I hate it," Tommy snorted.

“Really? Is it that horrible?” he laughed.

“You can't imagine,” he shook his head, “I don't know the marquis, I mean, I've met him a couple of times, his daughters too,” he frowned and, seeing that expression on his face, caused Butch some fear. “But what that damned Sir is, every time he speaks, it makes me want to hang myself in the main square of the town”.

“Do you detest him so much that you want the death penalty?”

“You don't know him”.

" _ Maybe I do _ ," thought Butch, but he thought he'd better give way to doubt, there was a chance it was someone else they were talking about.

“Okay," said Tommy, "my family's house is this way," he pointed to the street that opened up on his right, looked at Butch's brothers who had also stopped. “It was great to see you”.

As he shook hands with each of them, and Brick gave him a tight hug, Butch tugged a little on his shirt to get his attention so he could ask, a little uneasily:

“Hey, man, will you be off for the weekend, couldn't you come?”

“Considering that the old man is not going to fight, I say it's possible. Why?” He frowned slightly.

“You want to help me?” Tommy arched an eyebrow. “You see, I met a girl," Brick, Boomer and Tommy made a surprised face, "who I've promised to introduce to the village”.

“Gee, I didn't think the day would come when you'd be interested in a girl," Brick commented.

“Me neither," said Boomer, "I thought this guy would go into the church”.

“It's not funny," Butch was offended.

“You said you were going to introduce her to the village," said Tommy, to which Butch nodded, "is she a stranger?”

“Maybe, maybe not; I'm not going to tell you anything until the weekend," he smacked his lips and turned to his best friend. “Come on, man, what do you say?”

“Okay, I'll go with you," nodded the squire, "just because I'm curious to death. In case of any inconvenience, I'll send someone to warn you”.

“Ah," the three brothers were astonished, but Brick was the one who spoke, "can you do that?”

“You should know that I have some power," he winked and stepped away from the brothers. “See you soon!”

**.  
.**

The next morning, Buttercup, with the help of her vassal, thought she could tell her family, "I need some air"; to make it sound credible she would look frustrated, so they would tell her that a walk would do her good for her health and her "woman's attitude", because, it seems, being saturated and annoyed were only permissible or proper states for a woman, in a derogatory way, of course.

“Excuse my intrusion, Your Excellency," Buttercup stopped looking out the window of her room and turned to the man still standing by her door, "where do you want to go? I mean, I know the village, but for what reason?”

The girl sighed and crossed her arms, taking her opposite elbows. She wasn't looking at her vassal, she had her gaze lost somewhere on her bed, the man was questioning himself, he was afraid of receiving some kind of punishment for having asked her something that is none of her business.

“I know I can trust you,” said, finally, the girl, “so I'll tell you,” she looked at him with an enthusiastic smile: “I want to go to the village because a boy promised to show it to me. He said he was going to show me the world and, to tell you the truth,” the smile got bigger, “I'm excited about the idea like you can't imagine”.

“Don't you think it's a bit risky?” he asked without thinking about the consequences of contradicting or questioning the Marquis' daughters, but to his surprise, Buttercup's smile had not been wiped off her face.

“You would go with me, wouldn't you? You would be watching me from some distance”.

“Indeed I would”.

“Then I have nothing to fear!” she realized that she acted exactly like her sister Blossom when she talked about being married.

The vassal was about to say something when there was a knock on the bedroom door. Buttercup beckons him with her hand to open. Bubbles' figure appeared, looked quickly at the man, who gave a little bow, but all attention was on her sister.

“Buttercup," said the blonde girl, "Won't you have some tea? The morning is very pleasant”.

“I'll catch up with you on the terrace, I have to put on my shoes”.

Bubbles smiled at her, said she would fetch Blossom -who was still there, even though she must be living with her husband at the nearby mark-, and left her alone. Buttercup went over to her closet to pull out a pair of black shoes that would look good with her blue dress. The moment she took a seat in the lounge chair she had in her room, her vassal approached to speak to her confidentially:

“Excuse my boldness, but I would suggest that you act from now on, so you will have a way to justify your discomfort with your sisters' stories”.

“You are right," nodded the girl, "I thank you”.

Buttercup left her room being followed by the vassal who would go to look for those who were in charge of the cleaning, however, and what she did not know, was that the man would stare at her with some concern and curiosity. The girl's enthusiasm pleased him, she looked alive, but he feared for her safety and her family reputation.

" _ What could be going through your head, Excellency? _ " he thought worriedly.

**.  
.**

The day finally arrives and Buttercup brings out her acting chops, repeating some things she remembered from her visits to the theater with her family. She gave her body and soul to her role as a frustrated woman in need of air. As if that were not enough, she put her petticoat aside again and put on a sober opaque green dress, those they used to wear on laundry or rest days.

“What are you doing in those plain clothes?” said her old father.

“I'm not in the mood for such extravagance," the girl answered.

“It's not extravagance, it's your way of life”.

“Well, I didn't want to dress "my way of life".

All those seated at the tea table looked at each other and at her, clearly.

“Buttercup," said her fiancé, "why don't you sit down?”

“I'd like to go out," spat the young woman, "I'm not in a good mood, I feel like I'm going to explode”.

“Don't be so drastic," her father scolded, "Where did you learn those expressions? They don't benefit from a marquise”.

But Buttercup did not reply, in fact, she snorted heavily and looked away from the door that had led to the drawing room where they were drinking tea. Her father gave her a stern look, however, she did not see him. Her fiancé, on the other hand, looked at her from head to toe, he usually did that to judge her body, as she did not like to wear the silly or the corset, she did not have a waist as marked as her sisters, besides, she was very thin. The sir wished she had a little more weight like the peasant girls he liked to sleep with, they did "have the ideal childbearing body". Buttercup's sisters noticed the look on the sir's face and decided to speak up to make him stop.

“Where do you want to go?” asked Blossom.

“Anywhere," replied an annoyed Buttercup. “If I had my way, I'd take a horse and ride around without telling anyone”.

“Are you unwell?” asked Bubbles.

“Yes," she exclaimed in annoyance, "I need to go out!”

Everyone present was silent, the girl's cheeks were red, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Her father, the marquis, looked at the sir and, with his elbow resting on the table, pointed to him with his hand.

“What do you think? In a few weeks, the decisions will be yours exclusively. Would it be all right for her to go out on her own?”

The sir did not reply to the marquis, in fact, he only turned his gaze to his future wife and was somewhat firm with his stance. He was being given a lot of powers now that he was so little left to be a nobleman, by marriage and trappings, but a nobleman after all.

“I would rather accompany you”.

“You would only annoy me. I need to get away or I'm liable to break everything," she was somewhat passive, pouted, and something inside the sir stirred at the sight of that expression. “I don't want to be tense when we are so close to getting married”.

He didn't answer her, he continued to contemplate that expression on the girl's face. His senses were getting the better of him, he didn't understand why, but seeing those vulnerable expressions on the girl's face was provoking sensations that he had never experienced before with her, only with the peasant girls he spent a night or time with.

“All right, go," the sir said, averting his gaze to his tea.

" _ I wasn't asking for your permission either, asshole _ ," thought the girl, however, her face didn't show it, as she still wore the vulnerable expression.

“Will you go alone?” Buttercup nodded, but the sir refused. “No, of course not," he looked behind him just as the girl's vassal entered. “Hey, vassal, go with her! Don't take your eyes off her, and carry all the parcels, if she buys anything”.

“As you command, sir," he bowed slightly.

They both leave the room, the vassal walking at least three feet behind Buttercup. They reached the carriage, the girl kept her role of actress until the end; she did not change her expression or look at her vassal until he was inside the carriage. Once there, she sighs and slides into the seat before turning her gaze to the vassal, who smiled and nodded.

“Very well done, Excellency," the man told her, "it came out perfect”.

**.  
.**

Butch was under the impression that the girl would arrive before noon, but according to the conversation he had had with Tommy a few moments ago, the people of the House did not leave the House until after lunch, when tea was supposed to be taken.

“Is this really how life is there?” He asked him after leaning against one of the trees that surrounded the entrance road to the village.

“Sometimes they take a nap," sighed the squire, “and I say ‘sometimes’ because that's more usual for men, the Marquis' daughters usually drink tea, especially now that the eldest is visiting; it seems that she doesn't want to lose any time to spend with her sisters”.

“Do you know them?”

“I have seen them from afar, I only know Blossom," Tommy affirmed and then sighed, "I have already told you that I do not associate with them or with the Marquis, only with the knight I serve”.

Tommy had asked what time the girl would be coming, and seeing that Butch had no idea because they didn't set a schedule, he suggested they wait on the road. She would have to pass that way, anyway, if she were to be in town, there was no way they wouldn't find out, she would attract attention and surely one of her brothers would find out and run to warn them. Until they heard that a carriage was approaching, the gallops of the horses were getting louder and louder. There was no doubt about it, someone was coming and Butch wished it was the Marchioness.

The squire sees Butch stand up excitedly once the carriage slows down and stops right in front of them. He knew that type of carriage, but he had seen so many that could be from the same maker. From the small but roomy white carriage descend a fine girl and an older man who stands at a distance from her.

“You did come!” says Butch, to which she smiled rather smugly. “I've been expecting you!”

“I'm a woman of my word: I told you I'd come and here I am”.

“Well, let's not waste time," he grabs her by the wrist, "we'd better hurry, there's so much I want to show you!”

Buttercup lets Butch lead the way, completely ignoring the presence of his vassal and the squire. Tommy shrugged his shoulders and tried to follow them at some distance. Buttercup's vassal smiled at the squire, but then, he was a bit puzzled. He was sure he had seen him before, but where?

“Hey," Butch shouted, turning to Tommy and the vassal, "What are you doing there? Come with us! Hurry up, we don't have much time!”

Butch introduced his brothers, who were standing near the square where he was playing the minstrel, watching for the girl. They were cordial and courteous with her, making her feel very comfortable. They did not interact much, and although they accompanied them on the road, they kept their distance. Boomer struck up conversations with the vassal, who looked very interested in the pottery of the place, while Brick and Tommy walked alongside each other talking, just talking.

They passed through the marketplace, Buttercup thrilled by the smells, the flowers and the craftsmanship of the place. She turned to her vassal to ask if they could bring some things. He told her that he was at her command, that he would bring her anything she wanted to buy. After that, Butch gave her a superficial tour of the village.

“You see, this is what is commonly done in these parts: working the vegetables, the market, talking like those women do," he pointed to the left of the road, then, in the same direction but a little further ahead, "playing like those kids. That's how the people of the village live”.

They were passing outside a tavern, you could see the people inside, men, actually, eating and drinking. The smell it gave off was very strong, but, for some reason, she was attracted to that aroma of food, even if it implied that it was not made with the same quality products she has at home.

“They look happy," Buttercup said with a certain nostalgia in her voice, "the people in there, and the people of the town in general. As if they are content with the way of life they lead”.

“We have no choice, do you think? While you people in the palace enjoy food and riches…”

“You have poverty," she completed the sentence.

“But don't feel bad," he smiled sympathetically, "after all, it's not like it's your fault”.

" _ It is partly, _ " she thought.

“I appreciate it," she said and then whispered, "I guess”.

“Tell me," he stopped, "is there something you'd like to see?”

It was getting dark, there was still some time left to think about cooking dinner, but assuming she told her family she wanted to "clear her head", taking longer could be taken to mean she did something crazy or else ran away. She looked at her vassal, the man was carrying three packages while Boomer had offered to carry two more; then she looked at a grinning Butch.

"The truth is, I feel like I've been gone a long time already," said the girl. “I've been gone, what, two hours, maybe?”

“Two hours is a long time”.

“Yes, it's a lot”.

They were both uncomfortable not knowing how to say goodbye or how to end the encounter, and the truth was that they didn't really want to say goodbye. But the reality was that Buttercup had to return to her world. The fantasy would not last a lifetime and she was only content to visit that world for a couple of hours one day a week.

“Vassal! It's time to go," Buttercup said to the man.

And so they all set off to where they had left the carriage. The vassal nodded at the Marquis' daughter's orders and asked Boomer to leave the packages on top of the others.

“Are you sure you can carry them?” Boomer asked.

“Don't worry, they're not heavy. Anyway, there are the coachmen”.

They were the only ones who could hear each other talking, because Brick and Tommy kept a wide distance from everyone, as if they were in a world apart. While Butch and Buttercup were nervous, because neither knew how to deal with a goodbye. It's just that, neither wanted to say goodbye to the other, they would have liked to spend more time together, even with the mere excuse of touring the town. Buttercup had felt very comfortable with Butch, and he was more than excited to have the girl by his side who had made his heart beat that way.

“Okay... we'll have to meet in another week," said the boy to break the ice. “What do you think of that idea?”

“I'd love to," said Buttercup, to Butch's surprise. “It could be next weekend”.

“Then I'll wait for you," he said with a smile, and Buttercup nodded in return.

“But you have to promise me that we'll eat at that inn”.

“The tavern?”

“Yes, shall we?”

“That's a given”.

They said nothing, she pressed her lips together and gave a little bow with her head, while Butch took off his beret and bowed, even bent his knees. Buttercup laughed and shook her head. "Goodbye," she said softly and turned to the man who watched and cared for her from a distance. They accompanied her, that is, until the girl got into the carriage. Butch was the closest to the vehicle, he stretched a little to see the girl, but it was not necessary to continue doing that, because Buttercup stuck her head out and, giving them a huge smile, told them:

“It was nice to have met you. I had so much fun today," and she waved her arm, the carriage was already starting to move.

“I hope to see you again!” shouted Butch, being the most euphoric with his movements.

Until he could no longer see Buttercup's face and the carriage was getting smaller and smaller on the road. He stared for about a minute after the carriage disappeared from his field of vision and turned to his brothers and friend, who were looking at him quizzically and curious about the attitude he was having.

“Guys... that woman is incredibly beautiful," his heartbeat accompanied him with that statement.


	4. O3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 独りじゃない と気づけた 僕の「昨日」も  
> 傷だらけでも立ち上がった 君の「今日」も  
> 生きたくても生きれなかった 誰かの「明日」も
> 
> 二度と離さないように歩こう
> 
> "Yesterday" I realized I was no longer alone.  
> "Today" you got up even though you were full of scratches.  
> "Tomorrow" someone will want to go on living, but will not be allowed to.
> 
> Let's walk together so we'll never be apart again.

Buttercup had a dream where she was free. No one said anything to her for going barefoot, for not wearing a petticoat or for not having her hair in those ridiculous hairstyles. She was running of her own free will, she wore a dress, she couldn't remember the color, it seemed to be white, which was torn at the end of the skirt, that way, it was more possible for her to run without being afraid of tripping over her own clothes. She felt the grass under the soles of her feet, it was wet, but also warm, the smell it emanated she also felt, she took many deep breaths to convince herself that she was living it in reality, that it was not an illusion. Everything was very real. The wind, the warmth of the sun. She was free, she was free at last. And in that meadow, in the distance, waiting for her as if to show her another freedom, she saw the figure of Butch. He was smiling, he had his black beret in his hand, his suspenders were down, he was in a pose of rest. With his free hand, he was inviting her to reach for him.

Was that the door to her freedom? To follow that hick who doesn't know how to modulate? Possibly yes. Buttercup followed him without hesitation, ran up to him. The road took forever; no matter how hard she ran, she made no progress. She was stuck, as if she had fallen into a swamp. She looked at her feet, nothing, it was just grass, but why wasn't she moving forward?

“ _ Why can't I reach you? _ ” she shouted at him.

“ _ Don't you think you should wake up? _ ” Butch answered.

And she finally opened her eyes, breaking all illusion. She was not free, she was locked up in that palace, in that room with its thick walls and gold furniture. She covered her head with the quilts and snorted loudly. It had been a week since she had seen Butch, all that time without seeing him, after having such a fun time, even if he only showed her places, something very simple that could have been done by anyone or by herself if she had dared to go on her own, she convinced herself that she wanted to see him again. That boy had triggered something inside her, had awakened an illusion that, she thought, she had died.

She uncovered her face again and sat down on her bed. Everything was silent, not much light was coming in from outside, and although it could be because the curtains were closed, the sun's rays were always visible underneath them, but this time they were weak. Possibly there were a lot of clouds in the sky that morning. She laughed lightly, she had thought "it was as cloudy as her mind". If the sun was the reason for being part of the nobility and the clouds her deepest desires, it could be said that the clouds were putting up a fight to suppress that reason, and for one day do the things she wanted without having to feel guilt or remorse, because reason could not catch up with her.

She walked over to her window and pulled back the heavy, reddish curtains. She felt the rays of sunshine that morning, those that sought any opening to show themselves and mark their presence. At that moment, as she became aware of their faint warmth, she thought, "What if it were all the other way around?" What if, looking at that picture, she considered the sun to be her desires and the clouds the reason for being a noblewoman? I couldn't think that something so beautiful, like the bright and striking rays of the sun, could be interpreted as "her reason", that is, looking at it more clearly, the sun did everything to be seen, to mark presence, and even when it was covered by the clouds, you knew it was there. The sun best represented your deepest desires. So, those desires would always be present, there was no way they could be overshadowed, unless night came, but that's another matter.

What would those desires be? Freedom is one, but what would be the other? She was sure that she not only longed to live outside the rules of the nobility, she wanted to travel and know places, to try new flavors and new sensations. One of those sensations she wanted to know was love. She wanted to understand the things her sisters, who seemed to be happy with their partners, were talking about. Blossom and her husband got along very well, but the man traveled a lot on business, so she used to spend long periods at the House, while, every other day, she received a letter from her husband telling her that he loved her and missed her; Bubbles, on the other hand, had already kissed her fiancé, something that never used to happen, not even Blossom had dared to do so much! But it's just that the count, from the neighboring brand, with whom she would marry and she had a crush at first sight, really, after a week they were already shouting their love. And then there was she, who could not bear to spend more than a day in the company of the sir, and who, moreover, had to put up with his infidelities.

If she had to live a love story, the number one candidate would be Butch, no one else but him. She was not surprised to have thought such stupidity; she had known him very little, she felt the same as Bubbles with her future spouse, but he had been the only one able to get into her head and not get out of there, in such a short time. Buttercup never thought she could harbor such feelings with such intensity.

" _ Must be a fleeting love, _ " she thought leaning against the window and then sighing.

It was the weekend and so she would be going to see Butch as promised. She didn't have anything to do, the truth is that she didn't do much inside the House either, just keep her fiancé company when he was visiting -although she only sat next to him while reading a book, one of those she was allowed to read. And, if that wasn't enough, he was going on a "trip", which he would surely take in the company of his mistress of the moment, the village girl with the pretty eyes that would end up looking sad. Why would he be at home? She was going to tell her father about it at the first meal of the day, because, besides, her fiancé would be there too. Sometimes she wondered if he had a home of his own, since he spent more time at the House than at his so-called Hacienda.

They knocked on her door to wake her up and tell her that she had to go downstairs to eat. She answered that she would be right down and went to get her toiletries. Once she was clean and wearing the yellow dress that highlighted her pale skin color, she went downstairs and entered the dining room where, at her place next to her fiancé, rested the fruit salad she ate every morning.

“Good morning," she greeted.

Her sisters responded immediately, while her father and her fiancé took a while because they were talking. She sat down at the table in silence and, pretending to have no appetite, took three pieces of fruit, wiped her mouth and left the napkin on the table. Her sisters looked at her carefully. "Will she be sick?" they wondered inwardly. Buttercup looked at her father and waited for him to return her gaze; once he did, she said:

“I'd like to go for a walk”.

“Of course, my child, but afterwards," said the man immediately, "There's not much to do, it will do you good to get some air”.

That characteristic of understanding was so like him that Buttercup honestly liked it. The man was not as stern as he seemed to others, he had always been a concerned and considerate father to his daughters.

“I will go alone," she said.

“With some servant," said her father.

“My vassal…”

“He's with his family today," interrupted her father, "so you'll have to ask someone else, but you're not going alone," that's when Buttercup's fiancé opened his mouth.

“And why don't you ask one of the squires to accompany you? My knight's squire has a lot of free time lately," he looked at his future wife and gave her a cheerful and charismatic smile. “I think that, perhaps, he could take better care of you than your vassal”.

" _ Don't even think you can fool me with that false grimace on your face _ ," Buttercup thought.

“Must you consider it a good idea?”

“I don't want anything to happen to my future wife," and he took her hand.

" _ Don't touch me again, _ " she thought as she smiled at him with the utmost politeness.

The sir looked at the marquis, he nodded to him thus giving him the passage to give notice of the orders of the day. The sil turned to one of the maids in the dining room and, with a serious, fixed and demanding look, but with a smile that was a little dark, he said:

“Bring the squire”.

The girl, who was about thirty years old, as well as the sir, half opened her mouth, she wanted to ask which squire he was referring to, but it was not necessary.

“The one who serves the knight of Perla”.

The woman nodded, made a small bow, asked permission and left the room. Buttercup did not take her eyes off her until she was gone, when she turned her attention back to the table, Blossom, with a single gesture with her fork in hand, told her to eat. There would be trouble if she neglected her food, so she heeded her sister and set about finishing her fruit salad.

“That squire," said the marquis, "is he a foreigner?”

“Son of immigrants from the East," the sir affirmed. "He is an example of a squire, better than any other," those were the words the knight used. If he says so, then I can trust him to be good company for Buttercup.

You have no idea how she hated it when the sir said her name. The urge to vomit was present every time he did so, but now, being at the table, she had to dissimulate and resist her urge to retch.

“Did you send for me?” asked a male voice that made Buttercup's skin crawl and she had to turn her head toward the doorway to the dining room.

Tommy appeared in the hall, his eyes moved all around the room, because of how striking it seemed to him, until he observed the faces of all the nobles present, and stopped at the surprised look of one of the Marquis's daughters. They recognized each other at once, so they looked away from each other. Buttercup pretended to go back to eating, her sisters did not notice the surprised expression on her face, her father and her fiancé did not notice it either, as both men were watching the tall, slender squire.

“We have orders for you," said the sir, "and we hope you will be able to carry them out as we shall dictate them to you”.

“At your command," he bowed slightly.

It was explained to him, in general terms, that he was to accompany Buttercup on her afternoon walk, that he was to heed her in everything, for she was the authority, and that he was to serve her without any objection, at the same time, he was to watch and give his all for the safety of the Marquis's daughter. He accepted all the orders, inwardly, he was happy that he had been entrusted to look after Buttercup on her walk, he knew that the girl would want to go to town to meet Butch, and he was glad that they could see each other, considering that his friend was more than delighted with the Marquis' daughter. If he were to accompany her to town, he too could meet the special person he always longed to see.

Once she was able to be alone with the squire, with the excuse that she would give him all the instructions regarding her itinerary, she told him that she could not tell anyone that she knew Butch and that last week she had been with him. They both walked through the inner garden on their way to see the carriages, as if to get all the implements ready. Tommy gave her his word, he was replying that, for clear reasons, he would not want his lifelong friend to suffer a punishment that, in reality, he did not deserve.

“That is why I must ask something of you," said Buttercup.

“At your command, Your Excellency," she winced at the formality, but that was something they would talk about later.

“I need you to pass me some of your clothes, in these dresses I'm not comfortable for a moment”.

“My clothes? They must be too big for you…”

“As slim as you are, I'd say they'd fit me well”.

“Are you sure, Excellency?” Tommy asked before craning his neck to see if there was anyone around the garden spying on them.

“Just call me Buttercup," she smiled at him.

“As long as we are in this place,  _ you are the Excellency _ ”.

Buttercup knew that, in the House, she couldn't be free, Tommy couldn't either; anyone who interacted with her there had to do so by the laws of the hierarchy in which they lived. She sighed and nodded her head.

“Okay, but, tell me, please, do you have any clothes I can borrow?”

“I don't think it's a good idea…”

“It's an order," she occupied a stern tone, Tommy laughed a little.

“As you order, Excellency”.

**.**   
**.**

When the time came, after the lunch where she showed no appetite, Buttercup made believe that she was going to the carriage, however, she managed to sneak through the corridors adjoining the garden that would take her to the carriages, she went to the service room and that is where she put on Tommy's clothes: dark pants and a yellowish shirt, plus a sweater because of the low temperatures that were occurring during that season, and that the sun was not illuminating completely due to the clouds. The only problem with Tommy's clothes were the shoes, so she had to ask the girls who worked with her to lend her a pair, they didn't refuse, she would give them a little extra pay for the favor if, just, they didn't tell anyone.

She tied her long black hair in a low ponytail and walked out of the House in Tommy's company, through the front door, having rounded the dwelling by the garden paths. The carriage with, presumably, Buttercup inside, waited for them both looking towards the entrance, as if it was just as anxious as she was to get out. At that moment they hear Buttercup's fiancé speaking to them... and they feel anxious. What would they do now?

“Squire, come!”

“Into the carriage," Tommy ordered her, "and close the curtains. Anything, you answer from there, say you have a headache or something, I'll try to hold you as long as I can”.

“Squire!” insisted the sir. “Come in!”

“Don't turn round, pretend you don't hear, come on”.

Buttercup walked on, without stopping and with a somewhat more aggressive pace than she was used to. She reached the carriage, opened the door and climbed in, all under the attentive and surprised gaze of her fiancé.

“Sir," Tommy bowed, bending only one knee, "what can I do for you?”

“Who is that man walking beside you?”

“An apprentice," he lied, but he was very sure. “He works for one of the Count's knights, he has come to ask me for a couple of advices and, as the Excellency wants to take a walk in general, I thought it would be good if we approached him, don't you think so?”

“It's all right, it's all right," he played it down, "it's just that you should have warned us he was coming”.

“I have... Don't you remember? It was two days ago, when you were leaving with a young woman…”

“Oh! Of course, of course!” He didn't remember, and it was impossible for him to remember because it didn't happen, it's just that Tommy was talking about one of the many times during the week when the sir went with his mistress of the week.

“Something...?”

“He's quite thin," he interrupted him to make an observation of the  _ apprentice _ , "and he has very long hair," he narrowed his eyes. “Can men have hair that long?”

“It's a religious thing," he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“I understand," he nodded, convinced of what he had just heard, to Tommy's surprise. “Okay, I want you to find out if she, my fiancée, is seeing anyone”.

“Huh?” That order had taken him by surprise. “Do you want me to...?”

“Go along with her, befriend her, and tell me what she's doing on the walk," he sighed. “I can't risk losing her”.

" _ Of course I'm going to tell you, _ " Tommy thought. " _ But when the day comes when the Inquisition will stop accusing anyone who criticizes it of being a Jew” _ .

“As you command, sir”.

Without another word, he goes to the carriage. The sir had turned back, nor did he see him get in. Buttercup was frightened, but seeing Tommy, she relaxed a little. Buttercup gave the order to move on, and they left the domain of the House.

“I think we should have gone up to the coachman's side," said Tommy.

“I hadn't thought of that," she laughed a little. “But, well, here we are, aren't we?”

“Yes”.

“What did you talk to that man about?”

Tommy was a little silent, shifting uncomfortably, but Buttercup had leaned her body a little to get his attention. She wasn't smiling, but serious, with both eyebrows arched waiting for an answer.

“He asked me to tell him the things you do," Buttercup snorted, "He wants to know if you're seeing another man”.

“He's a very bold man. Does he care about my infidelity?” she was very upset. “And all the women who have come to tell me I can't marry him because, supposedly, they're the women he's really in love with? I dislike him more and more. All of us in fact, the coachman who accompanies us today, I also know that he has asked him to keep an eye on me, my faithful vassal the same. Everyone is lying to him, because, although I am not doing anything wrong either, that man can take on attributions that do not belong to him yet. That's why we don't like him and don't tell him the truth”.

“I don't like him either," Tommy laughed, rubbing it off on the girl. “I'm going to lie to him, I have to tell him that you' re just going to meditate”.

“And enjoy my freedom," she added.

“I'll tell him, Excellency, if that's what you want”.

“ _ Buttercup _ ," she corrected.

“Sorry," he smiled, " _ Buttercup _ ”.

The girl glanced sideways at him, she noticed that there was some enthusiasm in the squire's thin face. She pursed her lips, she had to find the exact words to start the conversation with him without seeming invasive or demanding, but how? That was the problem. And the solution, at least for Buttercup, was quite simple: be direct, without further ado.

“What do you plan to do when we get to town? I know you and Butch are good friends”.

“Ah," he tilted his head slightly, "well, I have someone I want to see, too," he smiled thinly, "I wish I could see that person all the time, but work doesn't allow it, and we're far away. Being asked, your excellency," Buttercup raised an eyebrow, "excuse me, to accompany you, made me think I might be able to see them”.

“You sound like you're in love. What's she like? Are you two a couple or something?”

“If that person and I were a couple, we'd be executed”.

“What are you talking about?”

“There are certain kinds of love that are not accepted, because you're both different or the same. If we were together, it would be a sin”.

She didn't think the squire was capable of opening up to her like that. He was confiding something very strong, but Buttercup felt that he told her all this so that she could trust him, and she was grateful for it, and she felt very sorry for him, because she could tell he was suffering, and for the same reason she was suffering: he was not free either.

And so began a few recurring weeks where Tommy was now the one who accompanied her on her walks.

**.  
.**

When they arrived at the meeting place with Butch, for the first time, seeing her descending and noticing the clothes she was wearing he was a little surprised, then he realized that this way she could pass unnoticed among the curious eyes of the villagers or the possible owls that could inform the sir. Tommy always knew how to leave them alone, "I'll go do some shopping, I'll wait in the carriage later," "I'll go see Brick, maybe I can chat with him," among other things, but he always, always, always gave them their space.

Considering that they could not always go to the parks, because people would ask him to do his show, leaving him without the possibility of being quiet with Buttercup, they decided to go to the tavern, a place where only men could enter, so, if there was a spy around, he would not think that it was really the daughter of the Marquis, and women were forbidden to enter.

For the first few weeks, Buttercup was looked at oddly, because although she was wearing men's clothes - meaning pants and a shirt - she had a body with curves that were too feminine. She had to "learn" to sit with her legs slightly apart, put her elbows on the table, drink from the concoctions offered there, and put up with a few touches of alcohol or too much sugar. In addition to all of the above, Butch had suggested that she should imitate a foreign accent, not sounding like the local dialect or even a very formal one, considering her position as "a village boy". She remembers very well that first day, where they sat at the corner table, some men looked at her strangely, Butch told her "challenge them, ask them what's wrong with them".

"Hey, you pricks!” she shouted to Butch's surprise, of course, with a slightly deeper tone of voice and slurring her R's. "What are you all staring at me for?”

“Haven't you people noticed that he's a stranger?” Butch joined her, however, in a calmer and friendlier tone. “From there, they were left alone, no longer looked at strangely”.

The first conversations the two engaged in were about Butch's work, then he would ask her what she normally did, but not having much to talk about, she had a better time listening to him talk, since his life was more colorful and moving than hers. Until, after a few meetings, always in the same tavern, Buttercup dared to ask him certain questions.

“What things do you like?” she was direct.

“I like food," he answered with a touch of grace.

“Anything besides that?”

“I can't think of anything else…”

“I thought you'd say you liked being a minstrel”.

“I'm not a minstrel," he clarified, "but that's what I've been nicknamed”.

“The stories, where do you get them from?”

“It's just what I hear, I exaggerate to make it entertaining, but I don't make them up”.

“How did it all come about, being nicknamed a minstrel?”

“One day, when they told us that we had to pay huge taxes to continue to maintain our source of income, I was upset, very upset, I went to look for a job and I stayed as the errand boy of a bourgeois who could recommend me to the Count…,” he clicked his tongue and frowned, “disgusting, really”.

“Why?”

“Because my job is to do the filthy bourgeois's business," he scoffed, "but he gets the money in larger amounts because, let's say, I'm like a subordinate, a peon”.

“And what happened?”

“When I came back, I saw a child crying, his little friend had had to leave because his father was sick, so, to cheer him up, I told him my story, I added a little more drama, I made fun of the bourgeois. More children came up and... I went up to give my show; from then on, they nicknamed me ‘the minstrel’. I think it's a good way to show my anger, because I never arrive in a good mood after going to those places”.

“Personally,” the girl who had some messy locks of hair falling down her forehead had tilted her head and was smiling half-sideways, “when I saw you for the first time, it was weird and somewhat uncomfortable, is that you talked about my acquaintances in such a derogatory way, or made them look like useless, then,” she shrugged, “I had been a little annoyed by your show”.

“It's ironic, because the truth is that's how I feel about them, maybe it's because of the way they treat me for being lower down that I portray them that way”.

It was getting dark, it felt colder and the men who were there were already preparing to go home. None of them said anything, because they knew their time was up, but they didn't want to say goodbye. Buttercup wanted to keep watching Butch's eyes get small every time he laughed, just as he wanted to keep watching the girl's expressions, especially when she smiled; he could tell she wasn't much of a laugher, but her smile, even when she acted rough, was what made his heart beat as hard as when he ran.

“I should be going now," she says softly and with a sigh.

“Let's go then," he smiles at her.

When they were outside the tavern, the autumn breeze caressed their faces. They walked at a slow pace, neither of them saying anything. Buttercup tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, Butch made sure his beret didn't fall off or blow away, although, to be honest, there wasn't that strong a wind, he did that because he was nervous. Every time he was with the girl, he was nervous, because he wanted her to always have a good time and have a good impression of him and all that they had shared.

“Hey," he said, "I want to tell you something..."

His tone of voice had dropped as he finished speaking. Buttercup had turned only her head towards him, slipped a little and held on to his arm, but she didn't let go and Butch kept talking.

“There's a festival, would you like to come?”

“A festival?”

“There's a reason to celebrate," said Butch still with Buttercup holding onto him, neither was aware that they were still walking down the street and that she was wearing men's clothing. “I thought it might be better for you to get to know how we villagers celebrate. What do you say?”

“I'd love to," she replied enthusiastically. “If it's  _ with you _ , of course I'd accept”.

“It's with me," Butch assured, "Come with me, I'll take you." The last thing he said made no sense at all, but none of them really cared.

“I will," she assured him.

It was then that they realized that there were people around them, people looking at them weird, I mean, Buttercup is supposed to be a "man", what is  _ he  _ doing holding on to another man? She slyly releases his grip and says in a loud voice that " she can walk fine now, they just had to move slowly". Butch tells her that they should go get Tommy, who was probably still with Brick somewhere in the square, or else walk to where the carriage was waiting for them and wait for the squire.

“We cut through the alleys, I hope you're not afraid," Butch teased.

“Very funny”.

They moved through the alleys, Buttercup thought she would smell unpleasant odors and she didn't, but she did see more cats than she thought existed, as well as dogs. Grabbing Butch by his suspenders, she walked after him as she admired his physical build. Truly, Butch wasn't half as handsome as the sir, but for some reason, in her eyes, he was incredibly perfect. She didn't think she would feel that way about a man. She had five words trapped in her mouth, five words that wanted to get out at all costs. Five words that managed to escape and made Butch stop his pacing completely as she looked, somewhat embarrassed, at the floor.

"I think I like you".

Silence. Even the street noise and extraneous noise to both of them had disappeared. Neither said anything. He was looking at her, she wasn't. She wanted to run but her legs wouldn't respond. He didn't know if he would ever breathe again. His heart beat hard and fast; hers the same.

“I think I feel the same way about you," Butch said, grabbing her by the shoulders.

She looked up to see him. Butch's smile was something that would be etched in her memory forever. For strange reasons, hearing that statement from the boy made her want to cry. Buttercup didn't know that he wanted to cry too. Neither was able to know that the other also thought they were living an illusion, that they were too happy to know they were reciprocated, that the other also longed for that shy, soft kiss they were sharing. God, she did feel  _ love _ . God, so did he.

“ _ Is this the feeling of freedom I was looking for? _ " thought Buttercup, unaware that the sky was already clearing, but giving way to the darkness of night.


	5. O4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 際限ない犠牲を朦朧とした理想を  
> もう無駄にしないようにと  
> 悲しみを切り刻んだ
> 
> Of endless sacrifices, of ambiguous ideals.  
> I won't let it all go to waste,  
> so I'll shatter all that sadness inside of you.

Throughout the week, both on their side, they were thinking about each other and how anxious they were to see each other. They could not deny that what they have shared has meant more than anything else in their lives. They could not believe that so much happiness was indeed possible to be acquired and, moreover, to be shared with a completely different other. They were happy and wanted to collect some other happy moments. But they had both forgotten one small detail: the reason for the festival.

Buttercup had a dinner to make her nuptials official, she was a week away from marrying the -craps sir. She had not taken the weight of the situation she was in, that is to say, she had stopped worrying about the dates, she only took into account the days, because only then would she be able to see Butch. If only she had realized that that Saturday was December 5..., and as was the tradition, it was celebrated the last week before the marriage. Something was not going to go right, because they would not let her get away, she was the star of the evening.

The thought of delaying her marriage came into her head, and when she thought of sharing that thought with her sisters, of not wanting to be, officially, the "wife of sir Craps", they did not react as she had hoped:

"Why not?” Blossom exclaimed to her with a horrified expression on her face.

“You can't stay single!” Bubbles added, "Don't be selfish, I can't get married without you doing it first!"

The worst followed when she explained to them, with utmost disgust and anger, that the guy has been unfaithful to her. Never mind the look of indignation on Buttercup's face or the emphasis she made that she was breaking the family traditions expected of those who were part of the nobility. It didn't matter to them, and that to her has hurt too much, is that they were the only female support left within her closest blood circle.

"He is a man," Blossom justified to him, "you will have to know how to please your husband, it is your role within the marriage”.

However, and to her sisters' bad luck, Buttercup did not want to be anyone's ornament, and if they thought it was because her late mother did the same, and her father... not to mention that old man. She didn't want to marry for convenience, she never did, and that was reaffirmed after she met Butch. That ugly boy had charmed her, stole her heart and didn't seem to want to give it back to her. He was an attempt at a minstrel, he had nowhere to drop dead, but still, he charmed her just by talking to her and showing her the little world she had wanted to know so much; all she could think about was him, no one and nothing but him.

Now how would she leave for the festival? A week ago, when she was on her way, she asked Tommy for some idea and he, without a second thought, told her, as if it were not obvious:

“Escape, Excellency”.

**.  
.**

The festival coincided with the presence of some real minstrels, those who would tell the new story of that globetrotter who was battling with the pagans and infidels of the Crown and Church. People always used to gather around to enjoy the shows, they felt it was a way to commemorate the upcoming nuptials of the marquis' daughter, who, apparently, would inherit the marquisate since the eldest daughter had married in another mark. Butch had forgotten the important detail that is the reason for the festival. Buttercup was the next to be married, possibly..., no, she would definitely be in the castle, unable to leave at will and with the usual excuse.

What was she going to do? He felt like seeing her, he really wanted to see her, because it might be the last week he would be able to be with her. The last week in which they would see each other. He felt anguish, he did not want to accept that, at some point, everything would go to hell, because he could not bear the end of that small portion of happiness he was living. That's what he was thinking as he watched the people of the town finish placing the lanterns that they would light at night to facilitate the transit between those who wanted to have a good time and join in the celebration. He wanted to cry. He began to cry. The boughs of holly he carried with him ended up on the ground. Butch was thankful to be close to home and that those branches now with dirt on them were for them and not for someone else, thankful also that he was not one to cry outrageously. His brothers took him by the arms to help him to his feet, with Brick guiding him into their humble home and Boomer picking up the branches that were part of their Christmas decorations.

They sat him in the wooden chair, Brick fetched a glass of water for his brother who seemed to have no comfort. They stood there in silence, waiting for his brother to calm down a bit. Butch was not someone who was comfortable if you hugged him, therefore, his brothers stayed out of the way, but right next to him. They weren't going to leave him alone. When Boomer was about to open his mouth to ask how they could help him, what had left him like this, Butch himself started the conversation.

“I'm going to lose her, guys..... I'm going to lose Buttercup because she's getting married”.

“We thought you knew that," said Brick.

“I fucking did, I just forgot," he sighed heavily, now a little more relaxed, but with the same pain in his chest, "or I wanted to forget for a moment”.

“Will you let them beat you?” Boomer asked.

“I don't have a chance to compete against her bourgeois fiancé, and if I did, rest assured they'd do anything to make me lose”.

“If you really want to stop that engagement, you must do something," said Brick seriously and with some aggression at his brother's passive attitude. “You can't just stand there like a whiner and whine”.

**.  
.**

Buttercup strolled through the inner garden of the House, distressed, even her vassal was not accompanying her because he was in charge of organizing everything for the evening. It had to be a perfect evening and they would only trust him since he has been with the girl since she was born, therefore, he knows her tastes; he knows them so well that he is able to say that she does not feel like being part of the celebration. She wanted to be alone, she had forgotten that that night, when the festival was set up in the village, she would have to be partying with her family and the noble guests. Anxiety was biting her as she was biting her lower lip.

Tommy saw her in the distance, waved to her, she gave a little bow with her head and he knew something was wrong, because she was no longer behaving so formally with him. Yes, ideally he would still address her with the established treatments, but suddenly he wasn't, and the truth was that Buttercup was forgetting that all-important detail as well. He approached the Marquis's daughter and, trying to start a somewhat fluent conversation, said:

“You will see Butch today, won't you?”

“I don't think I can…,” she answered and immediately began to cry slowly, Tommy was a little scared, "because today I am the celebrant”.

“What do you mean?”

“That it's my engagement party, I mean, the celebration of my upcoming nuptials," her lower lip trembled, "I won't be able to leave here without attracting the sir's attention," she wiped away a tear that fell down her right cheek.

“Ah, I hadn't thought of that," he felt so stupid when he said that.

“Me neither, and I told Butch…,” she was silent for a few seconds before pronouncing the boy's name again with a broken voice, “Butch…”

“I can tell you love him”.

“Of course I do…” She kept sobbing, but she didn't keep crying, she was already calming down a little bit. “I love him, I love him... and I want to see him”.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Tell me”.

“I'll take you to see him”.

“How?”

“Your fiancé asked me to always take you to the village because he asked me to find out if you're having an affair like his," he reminded her, she sighed and wrinkled her nose a little. “I told him no, that you're just walking around, that you're not doing anything”.

“You did the right thing”.

“Of course, and if he found out, he would surely have Butch killed," she paused, bit her lip and looked away for a few seconds. “I couldn't bear to see my best friend die”.

Silence, they were both thinking. The other servants were passing by, like the gardener and one of the girls who had once lent Buttercup her shoes. Those two gave them a sidelong glance, but said nothing, since they didn't have to, they just walked past to do their duties.

“You can play anxious, I'll play tired. You tell him you want to see the town, he'll tell you  _ why would you mess with those people, _ ” he mimicked that particular pronunciation he had when he tried to talk like the members of the nobility, soft and calm; Buttercup laughed a little. “Be smarter and say:  _ Don't you feel like going and seeing the women who have come to visit you? Do you want me to make a fuss here? Let me go have some fun and try some of that food.. _ ."

“Wait a minute," the girl interrupted, "Did women really come here?”

“Yes," he said as if it were nothing, "they're holed up in the hut of...”

“My goodness," sighed Buttercup, "so that's what my vassal was trying to tell me. How many are there?”

“Only two," the girl snorted. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm just psyching myself up for when those women come to tell me that the poop wants them. Anyway, is your plan there?”

“Oh, no, of course not.What's more, you should add: ‘if you want, send your squires or servants’ and he'll send me,” he said with a tone of obviousness before collecting himself because of the embarrassment he was feeling at that moment, “he knows I have your trust, and, excuse me, but I speak in a derogatory way about you so he thinks I'm on his side”.

“No problem, that's exactly what you were supposed to do," she says.

“Are you not upset?”

“Of course not," she smiled at him. “How could I be? You're wonderful, squire, I thank you”.

Tommy gave a little bow, she smiled at him. It was great how they had gained so much trust with each other, and all starting with Tommy opening up to her just because, if Butch trusted her, then so would he. He wasn't wrong, the girl hadn't even said a word about the squire's love nor he about hers, it had only proved that they could count on each other.

“I'll go tell Butch that we'll change the meeting place and time," said the boy; "I'm sure he wants to see you too. He'll be as pleased as you are”.

**.  
.**

Buttercup went through the party as if nothing had happened. But she began to act choked up, as if she was short of breath, and that did not go unnoticed by some of those present. She looked out of the windows, paced back and forth in a hurry, tasted very few morsels compared to the rest of the guests. She faked many smiles to show them she was happy but everyone could tell she was anxious. There came a moment when the sir, as she was making her way through the large number of guests to the window, took her by the arm and pulled her close to him to ask:

“What is going on with you?”

It was time, she had to tell him what Tommy suggested. She took a big breath of air, that gave her all the courage she needed at the moment, although, more than courage, it was motivation for herself; having all that air inside her, she felt she had the right to release it in the way she liked the most.

“Don't you feel like going to see the women you have kindly taken refuge in the servants' huts?” The man softened his grip, Buttercup was thrilled that it was working. “Do you want me to make a fuss here?”

“What do you want?” Some people had noticed what was going on with the couple, but decided to stay out of it.

“Let me go to town”.

“Why do you want to go? Do you want to mingle with  _ those people _ ?”

“I want to see how  _ those people _ ," she mimicked the contemptuous tone he used, "celebrate my early nuptials. I ask you again: do you want me to make a fuss here? Because if not, I suggest you release me and let me go. Make up some excuse, you must be an expert liar, right? There's a reason you've convinced my father that you're the best match he could have got for me, the heiress to the mark”.

“Heiress to the mark," he scoffed, "you were only the replacement for your older sister's marriage”.

“At least I do have a lineage I can take advantage of, I don't need to be a social climber like you. Now, I told you to release me and let me go. If you want to feel safer, you can send one of your employees to keep me company”.

“Okay," he said reluctantly, "Hey, tell the squire stranger to come here!” He asked one of the knights guarding the evening, although he only seemed to be acting as an ornament. “My fiancée needs a ride and I only trust him. Do you want your vassal to come too?” he asked ironically, but she played along.

“No, let him rest. He's had enough work organizing the party for as many people as I've ever seen in my life”.

Without another word, Buttercup left in the company of the knight. The visitors had decided to pretend that nothing was happening, while the marquis approached the sir and asked him if everything was all right. The sir was silent, then nodded and told him to be unconcerned, that he was only fulfilling his fiancée's wishes and "who was he to deny his wife such a moment of pure happiness?".

Buttercup leaves together with Tommy in the carriage, full of illusion and eagerness to see her love, however, she did not know that while she was leaving and the sir was drinking a glass of the finest wines of the region, another carriage was after her but loaded with the palace guards. He knew everything and on that day he was going to unmask the marquis' daughter and her illegal affair. Needless to say, the sir did not trust Tommy, that's why he had sent them to follow.

**.  
.**

When Buttercup got out of the carriage, in company with Tommy, and saw Butch waiting for her at the side of the road, she ran up to him and greeted him with a kiss, one that did not go unnoticed by the squire after her.

“Ew! Please, not in front of me," Tommy complained.

“Brick is waiting for you down there," he gestured down the path, with a nod of his head, leading to some food stalls without letting go of Buttercup's waist which he had a pretty good grip on with both hands. “I know you both want to see each other, so why don't you hurry up?”

“Okay, I'll go with your brother, but.... Don't take advantage of me!” he exclaimed, causing both of them to laugh. “Buttercup, please, I ask you to be merciful with my rest," he winked.

“I promise it won't be long”.

For two hours they strolled and ate their way through the town. She covered her hair and sometimes her mouth with her long cloth garment, which she usually used to cover her hair from the dust, to avoid being recognized. The whole situation was a bit uncomfortable, she was afraid that something bad could happen, the feeling that everything was going well gave her a bad feeling, as if she knew that, sooner or later, she would be discovered and punished for having that little moment of freedom. At that moment, she felt like squeezing Butch's calloused hand as if her life depended on holding on to it.

After Buttercup tasted a certain kind of food - she didn't know the variations that could be made with apples and plums - Butch assured her that he had a surprise in store for her, "Do you feel like going to see the lake?" She agreed. It didn't matter to them that they didn't have a blanket to cover themselves from the wet, they both wanted to have a moment alone with each other, one where they didn't have the intrusion of any villagers or anyone else. A little contact with the freedom they could not have in their respective daily lives.

He stood while she sat on a hard, cold rock. Butch was breathing deeply, Buttercup was admiring the night scenery. The lake was close to the village, but far enough away to hear nothing but that particular sound so characteristic of water when in contact with the wind. The trees around them were leafless, except for the pines, which, with every breeze, released their scent and that gave a unique peace. It was cold, yes, it was getting cloudy, yes, but when she thought of commenting to Butch that she didn't think she was capable of withstanding such temperatures, the boy turned to her and gave her a playful smile, one that she could barely make out because of the scarcity of light.

“Don't you think it's great?” he commented to the girl.

“What is it?”

“It's all dark," he looked back at the lake. “Doesn't it remind you of freedom?”

“Why would it? Darkness is bad”.

“Why would it be bad?”

“The Church says so. God is the light in the darkness, it means that before, in the darkness, you had only chaos and misery”.

“What if it were not so?” He turned to her again. “What if the truth is that you must put the light in your own darkness?”

“I don't understand what you're saying”.

“Come here," and he held out his hand.

She received it and let him guide her, who led her to place her hands on his shoulders, while he took her by the waist. They put their foreheads together simultaneously and felt their breaths and the little laughs they were letting out at that moment. It was cold, but by keeping that closeness between their bodies, they could forget it.

“In the darkness that reigns now, I can kiss you and then I would be lighting up this place. Because darkness surrounds us every time we try to leave what we already know, but what if we venture to know a little more? It is possible that our light will stay in this place forever”.

“Venture how?”

“I don't know…”

“I want to kiss you”.

“Kiss me, then”.

" _ Kiss you, _ " Buttercup thought and did so, not thinking anything or that anyone might see them. They were plunged in darkness, the trees would help to throw them off, what bad could happen? Still with her arms around Butch's shoulders, she wrapped them around him to increase the contact between them. What joy, what bliss they were both feeling at that moment. Once they broke apart to get some air, they kissed again, because they both knew that night might never come again. She was getting married, she would have to answer another man's calls, even if she didn't want to.

" _ Why not take a memory with us? _ " they both thought.

Suddenly, their fingers were roaming each other's body, fiddling with the fabrics and tugging at some laces. They moved by instinct, the wet floor was not comfortable, possibly they would catch some cold, but they didn't care. Both were driven by their instincts, by their desires. They wanted to fill that dark place with light, what better way to do it than by feeling each other. The connection they shared with their actions was deeper than they could have imagined.

They weren't just being "the first" in each other's lives, they were signifying a before and after in each other. As if being their first kiss wasn't enough, they gave themselves to each other to leave an imprint that could never, no one, ever erase or remove. Forever, in each other's minds, would be the memory of that night, where, even if they felt a little pain and cold, they had contact with  _ freedom  _ and that desire appeared in them.

" _ I want to have the freedom to love whoever I want _ ".

What they both ignored as they shared and demonstrated their love, was that Tommy, Brick and Boomer were desperately looking for them, all driven mad, screaming his name until they almost tore their throats out. They had to find him before disaster struck. Hardly had the squire realized that they had been followed, when he saw the coachman in the back of the royal guard carriages with bruises.

Everything had gone to waste.

Buttercup and Butch were lying on the damp ivy, catching their breath and trying to process the emotions and sensations they had shared. Their naked bodies felt the cold wind, and although they felt their chests rise and fall, they could hear nothing but a ringing in their ears and the fluttering beats of their respective hearts. They wanted to say something. She wanted to tell Butch how much she loved him. He wanted to tell Buttercup how much he loved her. Yes, they were thinking the same thing, and what can we expect from those who had just shared love for the first time with the one they really loved?

When they were aware of outside noises, when they felt they could speak again, any words that would come out of their mouths silenced the hard footsteps of those approaching to lock them in. Somewhat dazed, they sat up and covered themselves with some of their garments that were strewn around them. Motionless, they hoped to go unnoticed. They were in the dark, how could they be found? But when Buttercup wanted to approach Butch to hug him, it was when she unwittingly exposed them to the eyes of those who were hovering around them.

“Stand still!” said a thick male voice, "Who are you people?”

They didn’t answer.

“I know you are there! I can see you!”

They didn’t answer.

“Speak up! If you don't, I'll shoot you!”

The royal guard surrounded them, both clinging to each other's bodies. They were being aimed at by shotguns. The worst thing was not even that, it was that they had not been able to say anything to each other after what they did. They were immediately intimidated. They were talked to, ordered around, insulted, but they didn't hear anything clearly. They concentrated on each other's warmth until they were grabbed by the arms, forcing them to separate.

The freedom of both had come to an end.


End file.
